


The Diviner [DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE]

by midnighhts



Series: his psychic materials [1]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Canon Character of Color, Case Fic, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighhts/pseuds/midnighhts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn Spencer never really liked lying. (That is a lie.) His daemon, more so. But when Carlton Lassiter wants him arrested, and the guy's daemon basically has Alodia's head in its mouth, Shawn does what he can to save himself: he claims to be magic. (It's not even a whole lie, anyway.)</p><p><b>aka the mandatory pilot fic</b><br/>unedited<br/>previously called <i>Divine</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the introduction fic for the AU. i will write a fic hopefully of my own plot, or maybe the plot of another episode. either way, i will write more for this AU if the reception of the idea is pretty well.
> 
>  
>
>>   
> 
> 
> this is the map i'm basing any HDM AU on. santa barbara is along the chunk of land for hispania nova, so i've named it so. if you get confused about the names of places, do consult the map.  
> (open in new tab for full size)
> 
> also found on [FanFiction . net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11854226/1/The-Diviner)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited/ un-beta'ed
> 
> i have taken this [transcript](http://jpgr.livejournal.com/129421.html) and made it into an HDM AU. i do not take any credit for the plot and characters,.

 

**1986:**

**Santa Barbara, California, Hispania Nova**

 

Henry Spencer looks menacing when in uniform. There's always been a tension in his stance that made others stand on guard, too. It was probably from his police training, or maybe from his fascination with stories of the mighty _panserbjørne_ from when he was small -- either way, Henry Spencer has never fucked around.

Odessa, his large polar bear dæmon, sits on the vinyl seats next to him. Her size alone sends most people running away in fear, without the need of Henry's intimidating glares. She towers over other dæmons and most humans, a looming parental figure that emulates disappointment and determination at the same time. She's even taller than Henry.The sight of her is a little jarring, too; Hispania Nova isn't notable for a sizeable _panserbjørne_ or polar bear community.

Henry and Odessa make a terrifying pair.

Shawn Spencer is only partly terrified of both of them (a little more than half, but it's also a little less than half): not because they are hulking and able to snap someone's neck into two, but because it takes only one slip-up for Henry to dish out punishment. Both Henry and Odessa are strict as heck, especially with school work and vegetables.

"Did you do your homework?" Henry asks. His arms are crossed over his chest, which makes him seem even more intimidating and hulking compared to the nine year old's smaller frame.

"Uh-huh," Shawn replies, almost bored and sulking. Alodia, as a newt climbing up the wall next to Shawn, flicks her tongue out.

Odessa gives a warning growl. The other patrons in the diner tense at the low sound. She doesn't look particularly angry, which lessens the effect of her scolding, but there's an unmistakable grace and power under her cuddly, furry exterior.

Shawn appears unfazed by the large bear, but Alodia jumps and falls onto the table with a soft thud. She scrambles back up to her feet, and scampers over to Shawn. In the rush of the moment, she shifts into a bobcat - a new kind of cat Shawn found in sixth grader's Sciences book a few days ago - and nestles into Shawn's side. She gives a small meow.

"Yes, sir," Shawn corrects himself, crisp and clear. He straightens in his chair. Odessa looks a little smug.

"Finish those beets?" Henry asks.

"Yup." Shawn spares a glance at Odessa, but the bear doesn't make him correct his word choice again. Shawn beams, though only under his mostly neutral façade. With his spirits brightened, he glances at the desserts sitting on the platter against the diner's counter. There's a brave light in his eyes as he looks back at his father and asks, "Can I have the fudge cake?"

"Close your eyes," Henry says right after.

Both Shawn and Alodia groan; though, Alodia does a meow of displeasure, which is as close as she comes to recreating her human's groan.

"Dad, I don't want to..." Shawn starts.

Odessa narrows her eyes at them. Henry does the same, a habit born of impatience and order. "Now."

Their gazes meet, Henry's blue eyes unyielding and Shawn's brown ones defiant.

Shawn looks away first. He sighs, bringing his fingers up to his temples. He closes his eyes as Alodia shifts into a small swallow, and perches on his knee. She gives a small chirp; a little nervous, a touch reluctant, but ready nonetheless.

Henry nods at the duo across him, even if Alodia is the only one who would see him. He glances at Odessa. She's looking the entrance of the restaurant, eyeing the people coming and going. The _Exit_ sign hanging atop the door stays lit steadily with a small hum.

"Which letter is out in the exit sign?"

Alodia has the advantage to glance at the door, but she just dips her beak and ruffles her feathers. She closes her eyes.

"X," Shawn says after Alodia's settled. It's an odd semblance to a witch casting magic, with Alodia as a bird and an almost supernatural feeling to the way Shawn finds the answers - though Shawn is male and the last thing you'd expect from a witch. As much as Shawn modelled after his mother, witch attitude just never came as easily.

Henry nods at the brunette. He glances around. "What the colour is the vinyl?"

"What's vinyl?" Shawn scrunches his nose up in thought, brow furrowing. Alodia opens her eyes, peering at Henry and Odessa. She clacks her beak, cocking her head to the side.

"It's the stuff these seats are covered in."

Alodia doesn't even close her eyes when Shawn replies with a quick, "Purple."

"Maroon. Close enough," Henry shrugs. Shawn mouths _Maroon_ to himself.

Odessa stiffens, tensing like a wound up toy ready to spring. Henry glances where Odessa is looking, and frowns. There's a woman outside across the street that looks like a missing suspect from a case from two months ago: brown hair, thin frame and dark clothes. A blue bird dæmon swoops down and perches against her shoulder amidst the commotion of the busy street.

Henry shakes his head, nudging Odessa with his elbow. She's not the woman they're looking for; the suspect had a long, coiling snake as a dæmon, and not a small, plump bird. Odessa relaxes.

Henry nods at Shawn and Alodia, who were both still deep in thought. "Manager's dæmon."

"Who?" Shawn scrunches his face up again. The silence was a little suspicious, but that's Henry for you.

"She's wearing a name tag. The woman standing at the front door when we first walked in. You saw her."

The memory is there, still fresh and a little hazy at edges. When they entered, there was a jukebox by the wall, with a neon sign above it. And then. . . There was a woman in yellow, whose name tag reads MARIE. She was at the counter, scribbling against a clipboard. Clutching onto the sleeve of her yellow dress was a small lizard thing.

Shawn gives a small hum in thought. No, definitely not a lizard. He nods to himself.

"A salamander. Can I have the cake now?" Shawn says, almost exasperated.

Henry smiles, pride reaching his gaze. He leans forward. The proud smile turns into a grin. He casts a tentative glance behind his shoulder, noting the waitress just at the other table. "How many bird daemons?"

Frustrated, Shawn whines, "Come on, dad!"

"Shawn, you want a piece of cake?" Henry asks. The brunet hushes, but his irritation is clear in Alodia's ruffled feathers. "How many birds are in the room?"

Shawn is silent for a moment, thinking. "Do I count Alodia?"

Henry quirks his lips. "What do you think?"

Shawn is quiet again. He bobs his head a few times, almost like he's counting. "Three."

"You didn't describe them," Henry says, leaning back and grinning. Odessa gives a small snort.

Shawn's face turns into a mask of disbelief, though he keeps his eyes shut. Alodia is the one who looks at Henry and glares. Her feathers rise in anger.

"That's not fair!" Shawn gasps.

Henry can't help but let a small chuckle slip through his objective façade. He watches the waitress. It would be a minute or two before she reaches their table - gratuitous amount of time for Shawn to answer. "Time's almost up, Shawn."

Shawn scowls, but says no more. He settles back into the same position as before: fingers at his temple, Alodia perched atop his knee. He points to the door with his left hand. Henry looks where Shawn points, following his son's train of thought with a smile.

"One is a blue-jay. It's on a hat one the ladies are wearing." Shawn points to the back of the restaurant, to the bathroom. "One is a bird that has some kind of weird colour mutation next to the weird guy with the crooked tooth." He brings his hand back to his temple. "The last one is. . .the chef's. It's a rooster, with a funny crown."

Henry nods with a pleased smile. "What about Alodia?"

"Alodia hasn't settled into a bird." At that, the bird shifts into a black Bengal. Alodia opens her eyes, giving a meow-like purr in smug victory.

Henry rolls his eyes. "All right, open your eyes."

Shawn beams, eyes snapping open as soon as the words left his father's mouth. He blinks a few times to adjust to the shift of light, but beams in victory and excitement. Alodia's tail flicks around behind her.

The waitress steps in front of the table from where she stood off to the side. She glances at Odessa with a surprised look for just a moment, but with the grace and tact she's accumulated over the years of working, she turns back to the humans with a perfect smile. Her own dæmon, a beagle with a mostly brown and black coat, trots in between her legs, moving around and avoiding any touch between the patrons.

"Wow," she smiles, "that's amazing."

Shawn smiles back, grinning. Alodia gets up and slinks over to the edge of the table. She's close enough for the waitress to touch her, but not enough to look inappropriate. The woman takes a cursory step back, which provides a better view of her dæmon to the curious nine year old and his quiet cat.

It was a _c anis lupus familiaris, _with a tricolour coat and a politely pleased expression. It stood without much tension, but under the calculating eyes of Alodia, it couldn't help but shift into a straightened stance. It looked straight at Alodia, matching her unyielding stare with a gaze that wouldn't back down.

The waitress watches with a questioning gaze, which was a little affronted yet professionally masked. She gives Henry a look. Henry does a shake of the head-nod, a mix between both that was meant for reassurance.

Odessa makes a warning noise, soft enough that it didn't agitate anyone else, but it carried across the message to Shawn and Alodia. Henry makes a similar sound, though his small, proud smile doesn't change. His look equates into ' _He's a kid. Don't mind it. I'm sorry about this._ ' "It's adequate."

The two snap out of their reverie. Shawn's smile fades. Alodia looks away from the beagle. Her tail droops, and so do her ears. She levels her gaze with Odessa, who gives a strong, impassive stare back. The cat dæmon pads over back to Shawn's side.

Henry nods at the waitress. "Get him his cake."

With Alodia sitting next to Shawn and the possibility of accidentally touching the boy's dæmon has subsided, the female steps forward. Her dæmon wags its tail. She doesn't have any further perverse reaction to Shawn's staring, but she couldn't help but be just a little unsteady on how to procceed. She pulls a notebook from the pocket of her apron, and starts to jot down the order. Amidst the scribbling, she added, "I guess I know what you're going to be when you grow up."

Shawn beams, melancholic mood gone. He grins widely, boyishly. "Oh, I'm never gonna grow up, ma'am."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the story begins.
> 
> again, i have taken this [transcript](http://jpgr.livejournal.com/129421.html) and made it into an HDM AU. i do not take any credit for the plot and characters.
> 
> be careful of the sexual themes semi-present
> 
> unedited

**PRESENT DAY:  
**

**. . . still Santa Barbara  
**

 

Whenever Shawn tries to find someone to sleep with - which is almost always - Alodia is there with him. The notion is for Shawn's sake, and because of Shawn's laziness: without a dæmon by his side, no one will treat him normally. He could always fake a mouse dæmon, say the dæmon was shy or something similar - that's why it was always hidden - and no one would question much; but alcohol makes Shawn sloppy, and once the jig was up, he'd have to find another bar or go home alone. It would be too much work for one night.

As punishment for making her become Shawn's wingman (hah, get it?) for the night, Alodia perches on Shawn's shoulder for the most of the evening. She's a constant and alien weight against him, that quickly became uncomfortable after the first hour despite how light she was. Every time the magpie shifted, her black and white feathers brushed against Shawn's neck and ears, earning her a small sound of protest. ("My hair!" Shawn gasped in faux terror the first time.)

The waitress's dæmon was a small butterfly that fluttered close to Alodia in hopes the bird would play around while their humans flirted. It was a West Pygmy Blue, and Shawn hummed in appreciation of the slight colour mutation that made the insect's wings flutter with an iridescent shine. Depsite the dæmon's playful coaxing, Alodia stayed perched, responding with a coy yet interested chirp every time the other dæmon would circle around her and her human.

Shawn played just as hard to get: boyish smile, bedroom eyes and innocent words laden with an innuendo or two. The woman - nametag naming her Eliza - was just as responsive, swaying her hips as she walked away from Shawn's table and winking as she caught him staring.

Thirty minutes later, the two burst through the front door of Shawn's flat. Elisa's moaning into his mouth, kissing him hard while Shawn has his arms wrapped around her. He throws his keys onto the kitchen counter top blindly, and there's a small clink. Their dæmons follow them in, fluttering in paths intertwined.

Elisa turns them both around, and pushes Shawn backward. He stumbles back until he's leaning against the back of the couch in the centre of the room. The heel of his palm presses against the television remote sitting upon the ledge, and the television turns on just a heartbeat after behind him. Shawn turns to peek over his shoulder but Elisa surges forward. She gently captures his bottom lip with her teeth and he's pulled back into the kiss. The news program on the TV turns into white noise.

Elisa trails her hands over his shoulders and chest, breaking the kiss. She bites her lip, glancing up at Shawn with a grin threatening to appear. She takes a few breaths, steadying herself between Shawn's legs. Her hair is wild from the motorcycle helmet, and her skin is flushed. Her cleavage peeks out from the hem of her blouse. "Nice place."

Shawn replies, breathless and grinning back: "Thanks."

They're kissing again. Shawn rests his hands against her hips and steers Elisa to the couch. She complies willingly, and pushes Shawn onto the cushions. The male is surprised, bouncing against the taupe cushions with wide eyes; but seeing Elisa with that hungry look in her eyes, hair spilling out from the messy updo, all his inhibitions (or what's left of it) leave.

Alodia and Elisa's dæmon circle each other in a mimic of their human's actions. Alodia gives a small squawk, while the other flutters about close. The magpie settles upon the other side of the couch. The other dæmon flies close, and they huddle together.

Elisa's eyes are momentarilly drawn to their dæmons, but she turns back to the brunet with a smirk. "I knew you were my best table." She takes her hair tie, and pulls. The movement pulls her shirt up, revealing a little more of what was under her short skirt. Her blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders.

Shawn replies with a bemused grin.

Elisa climbs over Shawn, straddling him. Shawn moans as she kisses him; kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, the juncture where his neck and shoulder meet, along his neck.

Shawn runs his hands over her legs almost abesent mindedly. His attention is torn between the television and the woman on top of him. He can only see glimpses and flashes of the news broadcast as Elisa moves and grinds against his crotch, but it's enough.

On screen, there's a man answering a reporter. His hands are fiddling with his wedding band. His smiles and responses are nervous and strained. He was red in the face. The man's chittering dæmon — a brown stoat ( _Mustela erminea_ ), if Shawn saw the dæmon correctly — that sat on the table right next to the man, was fiddling with a glossy paper. The daemon clawed and chewed on the page.

Beneath him was text. The headline "ROBBERY ON 54th" was bolded, with a red, square background. Beneath that was a continuous stream of words: "Man, murdered. No leads. Police investigating", "Oil prices rising", "Justin Timberlake concert sold out in three hours", "Dæmonappings at an all time high", etcetera.

It was a prerecorded tape, if the sunny backdrop wasn't a clear indicator of the fact.

 _"_ _Joe, do the police have any leads at this time?"_ The reporter asks. She's partially in frame, but the most you see of her is her hand and the mic she has in it.

Joe shrugs, a quick motion of his shoulders that are more like a flash of colour than a visible movement. " _We're at a loss. We really don't know what else to do_." He looks at the reporter, but doesn't keep eye contact. His hands tighten into fists. " _Been a tough few weeks. Basically run out of ideas._ " He exhales.

Beside him, his dæmon chitters. Her voice is unlike the rushed mumble from her human; it's more pleading, but the nervousness is clear all the same. " _Hopefully the police will be able to crack this one for us._ " As she says this, Joe gives a forced, terrified smile.

" _Closing the books on the visions break-ins could be just the olive branch needed to set things in the right direction_."

Elisa keeps kissing him, trying to get his attention. Shawn kisses her back, one hand holding her by the hips where his fingers would leave a faint mark later on. The female gives a delighted sound at the back of her throat, and Shawn kisses her deeper. His other hand points to the side table by the couch.

Alodia peers away from the butterfly to look at her human. She follows where he's pointing: underneath the lamp was a stand for a cordless telephone. She hops down, ignoring the butterfly dæmon. The other, however, follows her with interest.

She lands on the wooden table, talons clacking against the varnished surface. She's too small to carry the phone without further consequences; if she flew at the humans with the heavier object in tow, she could easily touch Elisa by accident. Alodia, instead, hops around the table. She nudges the charger base with her body, pushing it towards the couch. It topples over, sending the phone sliding onto the seat.

"What are you doing?" Elisa's dæmon asks, voice loud enough for Shawn to hear over his moans. The question is directed to Alodia, but the bird does not answer.

Shawn leans over to reach for the sleek telephone. The movement tilts him and the woman atop him both.

Elisa pulls away, cocking her head. Her lipstick is everywhere, and also probably smudged over Shawn's lips too. Her eyes are lidded with lust, but are also filled with a question. She takes the moment to regain her breathing, as does Shawn.

Shawn tilts them back to a more comfortable position. He weighs the phone in his hands as he punches in the numbers with his thumb. "'m calling the police."

A shocked expression flits over Elisa's face, half-confused and a touch angered. She doesn't let that stop her from placing a kiss along his jaw as it settles into something a little guarded. "Any particular reason?" she asks, feigning disinterest. She pulls away far enough to be able to bat her eyelashes and peer through them at Shawn.

"I think I just closed a case." Shawn presses the green call button, just above the digits 1 and 2. He turns to give a small, lopsided smile. The ringing of the telephone is quiet but audible.

"You didn't tell me you're a cop," Elisa says, beaming. She runs her fingers over Shawn's chest and over his shoulders.

"Oh, no, no, no." Shawn's face twists. "Definitely not a cop. Does that disappoint you?"

Elisa chuckles. She bats her eyelashes again, playing coy. She plays with the collar of the brunet's shirt as she mumbles, "I just thought you might have handcuffs." She offers a small shrug.

Shawn grins. "Oh, I have handcuffs--Hello." He brings the phone to his ear as the ringing dial tone turns into a low voice. He half-turns his head away for some semblance of professionalism. The temptation of sex be damned; he has a reputation with the police department to uphold.

Elisa nods. She presses up against him, making an acquiescing hum in the back of her throat. She goes back to trailing kisses at the edge of Shawn's jaw. She places her arms over Shawn's shoulders, wrapping them loosely around his neck. Her dæmon flaps his wings in a semblance of a nod, too, circling Alodia again.

" _Santa Barbara police department_." The officer's voice is clipped yet polite.

"Uh," Shawn starts. He runs his hand over Elisa's legs, and under her short skirt. The woman gives a pleased hum, "it's the store manager. He did it."

The officer doesn't reply for a moment. "Pardon me?" They sound guarded, wary. There's a small click in the background noise over the phone, like a pen.

Shawn holds back a moan as Elisa circles her hips, feeling the starting of an erection bulild under the denim. She smirks against his neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

"Uh, the stereo robberies." Shawn shivers in pleasure. His voice waivers a little, and his sentence ends in a sigh. He takes a breath in, trying to sober up. "At the visions chain store. He's on channel 8 news right now."

Elisa giggles, soft and breathlessly. She pulls Shawn's hand away from her leg. His hand is just a little bigger than hers, a little calloused around the edges, but nimble. She places it on her chest. She interlaces her fingers with his, and squeezes her breast for him.

Shawn nearly chokes.

"Uh, his hands. Nervous tic... dead giveaway." He sounds distracted, even to his own ears. Thankfully, he doesn't moan into the receiver when Elisa places a short but wild kiss against his lips. "And he won't look at the reporter in the eyes." He pauses for a moment, turning to Elisa with a playful look of anger, almost admonishing her for kissing him. She giggles. "My name? My name is Shawn... Spencer."

The officer is silent for a second, probably jotting down whatever Shawn had just shared. In the background, another voice rang out, 'We've got a lead.' It was maybe the officer's dæmon. "And is there anything else today?" They didn't seem to notice Shawn's distracted tone - or, if they did, they didn't seem to care.

"No. That's gonna do it," the brunet says. "--Actually, the tags on the news van have expired, but that's completely unrelated."

He drops the call before the officer could get anything else from him. He lets the device drop onto the couch. It slides behind a large cushion.

Elisa kisses him hard, tugging him closer. Shawn gives her an enthusiastic sound from the back of his throat, running both of his hands up her sides.

Alodia soars into the air, wings wide. She's bigger than Elisa's dæmon, an accomplishment in of itself. She puffs her chest put, preening and showing off.

Shawn pulls away, eyes shining with mischief. "Let me show you my handcuffs."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

It was a lovely day out. It wasn't too hot, and the sky was a fair shade of blue that greeted Shawn with a warm feeling of accomplishment and last night's great sex. There are still faint red marks from where his handcuffs dug into his wrists, and a prominent love bite against the juncture between his neck and collarbone.

People stare at Shawn as he pulls up to the curb outside of the police station on his Norton motorcycle. The engine roars, then quiets as it dies. Shawn slips off the seat with practised ease. He shakes off the feeling of eyes training his every move. It's not like they were trying to hide their frightened looks, or their pointed whispering; or how one woman took out her phone to call 911, or the CIA, or take a photo, or whatever.

When Shawn reaches up to slip off his helmet, someone takes a sharp and audible gasp. When Shawn gives the parking lot a precursory glance, people scramble out of the way of his gaze.

The daemons of the crowd all shy away, much like how their humans do. There's a parting amongst the crowd for the brunet: a two foot radius of people scurrying away from Shawn as they watch with horrified interest. Shawn doesn't have a daemon with him, and it is terrifying, wrong, a feeling of _no_ _,_ _no_ _,_ _no_ _,no,_ _oh_ _,god_ \-- . One child is on the brink of tears, clutching their rapidly shifting daemon close to their body.

Shawn doesn't seem to mind. His constant pull towards Alodia tugs him north-north-east, towards the other end of the police department. Alodia is here, but still out of Shawn's sight. If Shawn had to guess she's already tried to spook some of the unsuspecting officers and civilians by flying around alone, with no sign of her human anywhere and being way too far for a regular daemon to go. (Shawn would've also guessed she's scared _at least_ five people shitless, too.)

Shawn's stroll to the double-door entrance is leisurely, despite the fearful whispering behind his back. He walks with a spring in his step and a blissed out state of euphoria because of his wild night. He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his pants just because he can, and because walking around without a daemon is _totally_ normal.

A man scurries into Shawn's peripheral, appearing first as a blur of colour then as a shifting patch of shapes. The man's daemon, a furry mouse thing hidden behind the collar of her human's button-up shirt, pokes her head out and gives Shawn a wide-eyed look. It was like a usual mouse, but her snout was too small, and her ears were too flat.

The man is pudgy, with a flush to his cheeks from the heat. His clothes are all wrong for any Hispania Nova climate; his sleeves are too long, his polo too thick, and he wears an under-shirt beneath it all. He fidgets often, playing with the cuffs and collar to ease the heat.

"Y-You!" the man starts, shouting. He stumbles for words. His daemon quivers. "You're-- You're a monster! An abomination!"

Shawn stops in his tracks. He schools his face into a blank look of indifference, and turns to give the man a waiting stare. It's not the first time he's been called out on not having Alodia by his side. It's pretty tame, the man's reaction.

The man splutters at this; it's not what he expected. There's a terrified look creeping onto the brave façade. The onlookers turn into a crowd.

"What did you do to your daemon?" the man's daemon squeaks, loud enough to be heard by the bystanders. The man glances at his mouse, eyebrows shot up and eyes wide. It's an almost admonishing look.

A soft chorus of "Yeah!"'s come from the crowd, and some cheers, but they sound scared, hesitant.

With a newfound confidence, the man continues, rambling without much thought - like he was trying to say so much, to express everything he couldn't place into simpler words.

If he held onto his daemon tighter than he was a while ago, Shawn didn't say anything. "Your daemon is the very culmination of your soul! She is your partner! You demon! How-- How dare you come to the police station? How dare you? You're a menace--!"

Alodia swoops down from the trees, or something. She arrives in a flurry of monochromatic feathers just as the man took a breath between sentences. She beats her wings for a few moments, suspended in the air as she looks at the mousy daemon. Shawn is the one who levels gazes with the shaken man. The crowd quiets into a hush.

Alodia snaps her beak once; the other daemon jumps. She glides to Shawn, and perches on his shoulder. The man lets out a guffaw, while his daemon squeaks. The crowd gasps.

People don't just touch other people's daemons. Other people's daemons don't perch on people's shoulders. Other daemons don't suddenly appear from above, as if summoned. People don't not have their daemons with them, then suddenly have one.

This is a cruel thing to do to these people, but Shawn is nothing but jokes and pranks.

"It can't be--" the man splutters.

Shawn doesn't allow himself a smug look. Instead, he turns to Alodia, offering his hand. The bird, in an uncharacteristically affectionate way, leans into the touch. _It's_ _only for_ _show_ , Shawn reasons. _Alodia's_ _totally_ _going_ _to_ _kill_ _me_ _later_ _._ It's not like Alodia is the most affectionate daemon, even for situations like these.

"Where've ya' been?" Shawn asks, in a mix of a Brytish and Texan accent. "Been lookin' fo' ya'."

Alodia nuzzles into Shawn's hands as a reply. Shawn smiles - grins, more like it- at the action. Alodia's really playing it up for the crowd. He turns to the quivering man and his daemon. They, and the crowd, stare. Some shudder away, fear in their eyes.

The juxtaposition of appearing first to be without a daemon, suddenly getting one, then petting the magpie daemon as if it were natural, is supernatural and taboo. It's wrong, and Shawn preens at the people's reactions. He's a good man, most of the time, but this has always been a game Shawn plays.

Shawn smirks. People coil at the sight. "Later, mate."

He enters the police department without any further incident, though he'll vehemently deny that he was rushing in with the largest, shit-eating grin on his face, and a laugh stuck at the back of his throat -- because, oh, God, did you see their faces? Priceless. (Though, later, he'll ponder on how terrible the accent was, and berate himself for not trying to do an impression of Tom Hanks as he played Lee Scoresby in that Once Upon A Time in the North reboot by John Hughes. It wasn't the best movie of the decade, but the story's always a classic.)

Shawn's average looking enough, that if the people outside were to report the incident to the police, there wouldn't be much evidence that would point to him. The people were all too busy holding onto their daemons and not trying to throw up at the feeling of _wrong_ _,_ _wrong_ _,_ _wrong_ _,_ _daemons_ _cannot_ _be_ _that_ _far_ _away_ _from_ _their_ _humans_ to remember much of him anyway.

The Santa Barbara Police Department looks as it did ten years ago. The technology within the decade advanced enough for the old computers and ineffective electric fans to be replaced with newer models. The layout was still the same, though someone finally fixed the wobbly half-wall by the public water cooler.

The nostalgia hits Shawn like a face slap. He's been in the police department many times before, recently, but thinking back on the fading etchings along the chipped yellow paint brings back unwanted memories back to the surface.

It's sickening.

The people inside barely bat an eye at Shawn. Some of the officers' daemons glance up at the sound of Alodia's flapping wings, but they go back to their work. There are a few civilians milling around the room. There is a large, hulking man glaring at everything from where he was chained up by the centre of the room, on a bench next to the staircase. His bird daemon is hopping around next to him. There is a furious woman and a sulking teenage girl sitting by the holding cells. The mother's Shih Tzu stands on edge, while the teen's sulking turtle pressed against the girl's side. There is a similarly red-faced woman sitting two seats down, and a loud, squawking seagull daemon that's not so subtly cursing about someone.

Shawn saunters up to the front desk, that's to the left of the door. There is a glass barrier between him, and the two police officers and their daemons, with a hole in the glass for the ease of speaking, and a semicircle along the surface of the desk for transactions. The department's insignia is plastered upon the transparent surface. Some fliers and notifications, printed onto yellow paper, are taped to the glass. It's a small room that leads out to another part of the police station, a part divided by a door.

One of the of the officers is bent over, rifling through the storage cabinet in the back of the small room. He's turned away from Shawn, and only the mop of unruly black hair is discernible as one of the officer's key features. His uniform looks faded and a size too small. His hawk daemon hops along the top of the metal drawer, letting out a little _caw_ when the officer would stop pause and stop carding through the folders and files, and letting out a flurry of words every so often.

The other is a woman, sitting closer to the front. Her hair is short, and her face twisted into a look of frustrated concentration. She clutches a black telephone receiver to her ear with a determined set in her frown. Her large earrings and numerous bracelets jangle as she moves. Inscribed on some of the bracelets are small glyphs too small to understand but large enough to discern as runes. Her name tag says **ALLEN**. Officer Allen's daemon is a parrot, of red, yellow and blue feathers. He perches on the back of Allen's chair, squawking and jumping in time with his human.

"Hello, officer," Shawn beams. He rests his elbows against the surface of the front desk. He smiles, a boyish, charming thing that could make even the Grinch fall in love with him. He looks so innocent and good, like how a patriotic, All-American citizen should look like.

Above him, Alodia clacks her beak in an admonishing manner. _Yeah right,_ her invisible eye roll translates; and Shawn is offended, because he is a good, All-American citizen, mind you. Alodia circles around in the air a few times, dodging the few other bird daemons - and one actual bird - that were up there, too. She flies down, settling on the counter next to Shawn. Her talons clack against the weathered wood.

The officer doesn't notice Shawn; though if she did, she ignores him. She continues into the phone with an urgent, "But you gotta go." Her daemon follows it with, "It was awesome," and the woman ends it with a non-committal, "Well, yeah," in an almost _Duh!_ tone.

Shawn glances around the office, waiting. Alodia does the same, but she glances around the whole floor instead. First thing noted: exits and entrances; then the people; then possible weapons and defences.

Around the officer and her table are charms and talismans of varying witch clans. They were all fake, without a doubt; though some of the bright crystals and the large necklaces looked authentic enough to pass as the real thing. Some looked to be of Muscovite or Tartaric origin, while a few seemed to come from Nippon or the southern regions of Kamchatka. There was even one that looked like the charm Shawn had at home, the one made by his mother.

Shawn wrinkles his nose, but he doesn't comment. He does a sweep of the rest of the belongings in the office, but nothing is as prominent as the charms. The brunet stores the information for now.

"Hi," he tries again. He rocks onto the balls of his feet, sneaking a glance at the officer's daemon, and studying the serious lines etched between the female's brows.

The officer pointedly doesn't look up. "It was amazing," she mumbles into the phone, instead. Her daemon swivels his head to meet Shawn's charming yet a touch irritated smile and the tensed ruffling of feathers from Alodia.

"I'm Shawn Spencer," he starts, fixing on a less over-the-top smile towards the daemon. Talking directly to the woman's daemon wasn't the most alien thing Shawn's done, but it wasn't the most inconspicuous thing he's done, either. Still, his expression doesn't waiver, and Alodia straightens up to her full height.

Without even looking at them, the officer points behind them, to a bench by another one of the half walls. Her daemon repeats the motion, lifting a colourful wing in the same direction. Allen goes back to the call, nodding with a look of thought and often humming like a sage.

The parrot points to a bench, where a large man and his _Tetrao urogallus_ daemon sit. He takes up most of the space on the wooden seat, while his black and red daemon stands his feet, puffing out her chest to appear bigger. He is that same large man that Shawn first took notice in the police department. He is scowling at everyone, making the words inked in black along his eyebrows smudge and jumble. His hands are cuffed together, and chained to the bench. People avoid him. If a daemon gets close enough, his daemon would clack her beak and shoot out to peck at whatever she can reach.

Shawn barely hides a terrified shudder.

"Oh. . . " He turns back to the officer. "Oh no, no. No, that's not for me. Uh, I'm here for a commendation. I called in a tip."

Allen looks up, glaring at Shawn. Her look is sharp and unmoving, grating right against Shawn's exasperation and impatience. Her daemon does the same, drawing up to full height in a flash. The movement shows off the rich colours of the daemon's chest and feathers.

Alodia draws up in return, but not in a threatening way; it's an instinctual need to straighten up in front of an opponent. Shawn gives a calm but an undeterred look in return. It's much like how many of the fights and argument he and his father's went through when Shawn was a child.

Alodia must have done something that mimicked submission or surrender, because the officer turns back to the phone - though her daemon does not. The parrot daemon keeps watching Shawn with a wary set in his wings. His eyes would dart between Alodia and Shawn, resting more upon the silent daemon.

"Oh, no, Michelle," Officer Allen mumbles back into the receiver as though she's laughing at an inside joke. She doesn't bat an eye at Shawn. "I can't pay for that.

Shawn bristles.

"Here's the thing," Shawn starts. He shifts his weight to the heels of his feet, leaning away from the glass. "These are new pants."

Officer Allen turns. Her smile turns into a frown as she purses her lips. She's still nodding along to whatever Michelle is talking about, but her eyes are set on Shawn. She almost looks livid.

Her daemon points his wing again, just as tense as his human.

Alodia coils to spring. The parrot daemon doesn't miss it.

Shawn doesn't move away, but he does back off. He gives a displeased frown, almost pouting but his brows are furrowed and his eyes are cold.

"Clearly, you feel very strongly about this."

Shawn keeps staring down at the woman and her daemon, lips pursed. Through the glass, the parrot daemon stares back. The daemon doesn't look too long at Shawn; he switches between the other daemon and her human not to seem too perverse.

"Right." Shawn shakes his head. Alodia copies the action, but does a full body shake instead. Her feathers ruffle with the movement. Shawn turns away from the reception desk. Alodia hops onto his arm, and continues to hop upwards to Shawn's shoulder. Neither of the two glance at the officer or her daemon as they leave, but the feeling of the parrot's trained eyes is still there as they go.

Shawn walks over to the bench. The wooden seat is smaller than it seemed when Shawn first noticed it when he walked in. The man sitting on it is taking up half of the whole bench, wherein two people and their daemons could comfortably sit without touching. His daemon, a Western Capercaillie, does not hop too far from her human. It makes goosebumps rise on Shawn's skin.

Shawn sits on the opposite end from the other man without batting a glance at the man. He smiles, as his attention goes back to the loud voice of the police woman, and not to the hulking male next to him. As he sits, Alodia takes off into the air, circling around near Shawn.

"Eighty dollars is a lot for a reading, but she was astounding. I mean,"-- Allen pauses, shifting in her chair. Her voice softens to a loud whisper; she talks in a hushed tone, but still loud enough for her to be heard -- "she knew about granny's daemon and the curios she left Bobby. . . . I mean, I could literally feel her spirit in the room."

Shawn chuckles to himself. _A witch, reading palms and bones for eighty dollars?_ _Here_ _?_ _In_ _Santa_ _Barbara_ _?_ The chuckles turns into a snort, then into muted laughter. His shoulders shake as he muffles his snickering.

Alodia swoops down. She lands on the ground with a small _clack_ of her talons.

The officer's parrot daemon lets out a squawk. "Be quiet."

Shawn jumps, sobering up almost immediately though he gives one last chuckle before he does so. He turns, and glances to the man beside him. The man turns his head, too.

Inked onto his forehead, right above his eyebrows, is 'BLOODTHIRSTY' in a large, serif font. It's pinched around the D and the T as the man's eyebrows furrow, making it look like it reads 'BLOORNHIRTSY'. Under the man's left eye, there is a tattooed tear drop.

Shawn gives a guffaw. "Get out of here."

The man's face flickers with interest, betraying his cold persona. He doesn't show much more outward change, but his daemon does hop closer. Her talons clack against the tile.

"What?" she gruffs out. She unfurls her wings and rears her head, snapping her beak in the same way a dog would bare its teeth.

"You know," Shawn starts, without any reaction to the overt show of dominance from the other's daemon. He grins like a jackal, "I have the same tattoo."

The man's interest turns into a muted kind of annoyance and anger. He's still curious, though; he hasn't turned away, which is enough for Shawn.

"They spelled _bloodthirsty_ wrong on mine! Can you believe it?" Shawn laughs.

The man lunges at Shawn. His hands don't reach Shawn as he's cuffed and chained to the bench. He struggles against the binds, but it doesn't budge.

At the same time, his daemon jumps into the air and flies at Alodia. Alodia zips out of the way. As the Western Capercaillie advances, the smaller magpie zooms out of the way. The both rise up higher and farther, circling around the room's supporting pillars and swooping above the people's heads. People watch with slight disinterest, though a few daemons watch on.

Just as the bigger daemon seems to have gotten close enough to grab Alodia, she jerks back. Her human stills, and hisses a pained curse through his teeth. The pain written over the man's face isn't just physical; there's that haunted, soul-wrenching look of terror and emptiness - the look of _no no no nononoohgod_. It's too far for the man's soul link.

Alodia keeps flying away.

The Western Capercaillie doesn't chase after Alodia, but she does give a loud squawk. Alodia stops flying, and glances the daemon. A few more curious daemons glance in their direction. A charged moment passes before the man's daemon flies back to her human. Alodia stays in the rafters.

Shawn snorts. He's just a touch shaken - surprised, more like it - but he grins, and it's just a touch too smug. "I cannot believe you didn't test that out first."

The black and red bird swoops down, and perches against her human's leg. With all her ferocity and talons, she huddles close to her human. She hisses at Shawn, but the bird is hard to take seriously while so vulnerable. The man turns away from Shawn, staring ahead. The daemon and her human hold each other close. Shawn has enough decency not to say anything.

The door to the copy room opens. Shawn's attention shifts. An officer holds a door open for her daemon, a bounding goat that bleats as he passes his human. Inside the room, an officer counts to himself as the photocopier next to him hums with electricity. The man steps along with his unheard counting in the recognisable pattern of a waltz. His daemon, a golden retriever, paws his pant leg every time the young officer gets a step wrong.

Shawn's eyes return to the man. His staring does not make the man look back at him, but it does make the man clench his jaw and tighten his fists. Shawn gives the man a once-over - and not a sexual one. That would be gross.

Very gross.

The man is wearing a tee-shirt, a denim vest (a vest? Really?), dark jeans, and boots. His hair is scruffy, and his facial hair is untamed. His tattoos add to the rough, menacing biker look he's got going on. His daemon is big enough to be scary; not as big as an ostrich or a flamingo, but intimidating still.

The man shifts, to shield his daemon from Shawn's stare. He still isn't looking back at Shawn; but maybe it's because Alodia still hasn't returned and the guy's freaking out about it, or something. Who knows? People are always freaked about how far Alodia can go, and it sucks. Still, though understandable, it's not an excuse to be rude.

As the man moves, a few, small, red shards fall from the man's arm. The crystals hide between the folds of his red shirt, blending in unnoticed. Shawn glances at the man's clenched fists, then back at the glass shards.

"What'd you do?" Shawn asks, without preamble. He leans forward, tilting his head. "Bust up your ex-wife's car?"

The man jumps. He turns his head slowly. He stares at Shawn, nodding. He doesn't look less scared than before, but he isn't as hostile, either. "Her new boyfriend's," he says, warily.

Shawn nods back. His face is serious, and it lacks the previous mocking smugness. Of course, it's only for show, and the façade is to placate the man. "That'll teach her."

The man beams, turning his whole body. The fear and the tension eases out of his body as he leans closer to Shawn. The man looked scary even without smiling; now, as the man grins with too much teeth, he looks like a terrifying shark. His daemon gives a squawk, before the man got too close.

"They got no witnesses," the man whispers with pride. He grins, and instead of looking even more like a monster, he looks like a young boy with too much confidence in some poorly schemed plan.

Shawn nods, feigning awe at the story. "Sweet." A pause. Shawn becomes serious again, dropping all traces of his persona. He shrugs, glancing oh so inconspicuously away before someone might think he's helping the guy. "Might want to brush the shards of tail light off your sleeve. Just a tip."

The man glances at his sleeves, and he gives Shawn a grateful look. "Gee, thanks, guy."

Shawn nods with a smile. "Sure."

The man's daemon hops up onto the man's arm. She takes a part of his sleeve between her beak, and shakes off the glass. The man brushes off his other sleeve. Shards fall, and some of the bigger pieces fall into the man's boot.

"Uh--" Shawn starts, but doesn't comment on it. He's already helped enough, and it might even be good to keep the information for later. Shawn does have other stuff to think about, especially since a police officer heads their way, his daemon in tow.

"Mister Spencer?" the officer says, and his voice raises at the end to mimic a question. It's the same one from the copy room. He's tall, and his daemon is big; but both are so childlike that their size is undermined by their personality. The

"Call me Shawn," the brunette grins.

"Please follow me."

Shawn stands, and from somewhere above, Alodia swoops down and lands on his shoulder. Since the officer didn't mention Shawn's lack of daemon, Alodia must've been close by. He offers his hand to her in a show of affectionate companionship, but she only nips at his outstretched hand.

The officer leads the way, and Shawn follows as he should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally the plot progresses. do forgive me for how long and how slow the story is turning out.
> 
> unedited.
> 
> also, for anyone who may not know:  
> ❝. . . **impression of Tom Hanks as he played Lee Scoresby in that Once Upon A Time in the North reboot by Robert Zemeckis**.❞  
>  _tom hanks_ : a popular actor and film-maker known for his roles in "forrest gump", saving private ryan", "apollo 13", "you've got mail", etc.  
>  _robert zemeckis_ : the director of many iconic movies, such as "forrest gump", "back to the future", "who framed roger rabbit", etc.  
>  _lee scoresby_ : a texan aeronaut who helps lyra belacqua in her quest to save the kidnapped children and destroy bolvangar. he appears in "northern lights" (called "the golden compass" in north america), the first in the "his dark materials" trilogy.  
>  _once upon a time in the north_ : the short novel prequel to "his dark materials", centring on a twenty-four year old lee scoresby and his adventures after he wins his first hot air ballon. [this is the wiki page, for more information if needed](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Once_Upon_a_Time_in_the_North)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so so sorry for how long this took to come out. i was swamped with school. thankfully, now, i'm on break and i can write as much as i want!
> 
> new things:  
> \- [ you can find the diviner on fanfiction . net!](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11854226/1/The-Diviner) i'm still trying to understand the site, so please be patient with me.  
> \- i might post this on livejournal, too! my username is midnighhts
> 
> happy april fool's day! im too uncool to be a prankster hahaha
> 
> and that's mostly it! aye, so enough chitchat from me. here's the story. as always, unedited.

* * *

The young officer who was inside the copier room is called McNab. His golden retriever is called Ayumi. He calls her Mimi.

It's pretty cute.

While the young man is all smiles with his coworkers, and he pets his daemon whenever he can, he keeps a passive face around Shawn. Sure, the kid - well, ' _kid'_ \- sometimes broke character, and Ayumi's tail wagged with excitement even if there was not much to be excited about, but McNab has enough training under his belt to keep himself in line.

McNab leads the way through the halls of the police station. Shawn follows, Alodia perched on his shoulder. Her wingtips would brush against his neck, and he'd jump and exclaim something about his oddly ticklish tendencies, then launch onto a joking tirade about pirates, or something. Even if McNab didn't laugh at his jokes, the officer's dæmon would give a snort in the guise of a huff and wag her tail even more.

 _Finally_ , Shawn thinks, _I'm getting my reward money, and getting out of here._ The new hit television series on Channel Six is airing its season finale tonight, and Shawn is not missing it.

They pass by the holding cells, men and women separated. There aren't many people in the holding cells today, which make it easier for Shawn to spot them and glean information off them. Among the men is the man from the lobby and his large bird dæmon. Shawn represses the urge to wave at the man.

At the end of the hall, McNab stops. He turns and gives Shawn a polite smile. "Right this way, Mr. Spencer." He sidesteps to give Shawn space to enter the room, and Ayumi stops her tail before she could accidentally touch Shawn, or before Shawn could touch her.

Shawn pauses, looking between McNab and the door. The thought finally clicks into his mind, and Shawn strides up to the door. _Duh, Shawn_. He turns the knob, and pushes against it. "So," he starts with a smile directed at the tall officer, "when do I get my money?"

"Money?"

Shawn does not, despite what anyone might say on the matter, jump in surprise. Alodia doesn't squawk, either; just tenses up for a fight. The duo looks at the four other beings inside the interrogation room, namely the two detectives and their dæmons.

"Yeah," Shawn says, dropping the tightness from his frame in a heartbeat. He shakes off the surprise, and gives a grin from all the bravado he could muster in his flustered state. He steps into the room, and McNab closes the door for him. He doesn't allow himself to glance at the only exit; this is a battle of intimidation and standing ground. Shawn isn't about to lose. "The reward."

Beside him, Alodia relaxes, too, but she's still on edge. She isn't about to fly out the window and leave Shawn to deal with the detectives himself, but she isn't about to go along with whatever the detectives want - that much is certain. She shifts closer to Shawn, small talons digging ever so slighty. Shawn has enough will to keep himself from reacting to the ticklish feeling of Alodia's feathers.

The detectives glance at each other.

One of the detectives is a blond woman, sat upon one of the three chairs by the table in the room. She has a kinder face than her partner, and fairer features. Her otter daemon (a Lontra canadensis, Shawn catalogues for later) sits on his human's lap. This doesn't mean the otter is relaxing leisurely; this is the daemon of a detective working in the SBPD, who is currently on duty. The dæmon has tension beneath its furry frame, ready to defend.

The other detective is a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair, and very pretty eyes. He's the bad cop of the pair, with the sharp scowl and the prominent frown. His daemon, a panther, sits by the detective's feet, alert and guarded. Her coat is more tawny than most others, especially by her snout and paws. She is a big daemon, but not the biggest Shawn's seen. (Like, come on. Odessa is twice the daemon's size.)

Shawn walks closer to the centre of the room, which makes him walk closer to the grumpy detective. His eyes roam over the room, and over the detectives. (On instinct, he starts to count the small things - how many hats, how different kinds of daemons, what were the scientific names of those daemons, Shawn, are you even listening--) Shawn jumps back to reality with a tilt of the head. "You guys arrested the store manager. Am I right?"

"Why don't you let us ask the questions for awhile?" comes Mr. Grumpy Pants' reply. The detective smiles, but it's forced, and he's showing too much teeth. His daemon does the same.

Shawn glances at the detective, staring him down. At length, the brunet shrugs. "Okay."

In the centre of the room, there is a table with three chairs around it. There's two on one side, and just one on the other. The blonde detective sits on of the two, so Shawn walks over to the single chair on the other side. He sits on the plastic chair, and leans forward on the table. He rests his weight on his elbows, clasping his hands in front on him. Alodia hops off his shoulder, and onto the table, her talons clacking against the surface.

The grumpy detective walks around the room, passing behind Shawn. His dæmon follows suit, but walks on the outer circuit of their circular path to avoid Shawn. They still don't say anything, so, he guesses, this intimidation game is also a waiting game.

Shawn smiles. Two can play at that game. Well, three in this case. Six if you count the daemons. Eight if you count McNab and Mimi. Twenty-six if you count the CCTV, but it's a technicality at this point, and you haven't even counted for the possible number of people watching through the two-way mirror--

Shawn's attention shifts to the reflection of the two-way mirror. As the grumpy detective passes by his partner, his hand curls around a lock of her hair. He releases it as he keeps walking, looking a little more pleased and smug. He leans against the wall, by the two-way mirror.

A look of suprise, embarrassment, affection, and self-chastising sternness passes over the female's face. Her dæmon chitters quietly.

"So," Shawn starts. Waiting has never been his strong suit. The detectives snap out of their reveries as they both turn back to him, "which questions might those be?"

"Oh, I don't know," -- and Shawn has to keep himself from making a retort at that. The grumpy detective won't like it, but it should at least get some flicker of amusement from his partner -- "Like, where were you the night of the last robbery?"

Shawn shrugs, mimicking seriousness. "I was robbing a stereo shop."

The responses are varied: the blonde detective looks surpised, her dæmon is alert and listening, the grumpy detective has a smug look of 'I told you so', and his dæmon glances at Shawn with a tilt of her head.

Shawn cracks up laughing. Alodia swats his hand with her long tail feathers.

"I wasn't," Shawn says, sobering up. "I don't know. I guess I was doing the same thing you were doing: not solving crime." Shawn has the audacity to grin a little at his joke.

The air of the room shifts in an instant. One moment, the others were all eager and interested in what he had to say; the next, they all returned to being guarded and a just a tad hostile. There's a hint of annoyance creeping up onto the grumpy detective's face, while the blonde settles back into the chair with a decisive frown set upon her features.

The panther sits upright next to her human. (Mr Grumpy Face's hand twitches to pet her, but maybe that was just a trick of the light.) She doesn't move much more than she needs to, or does anything she doesn't need to. She stares at both Shawn and Alodia with her bright, hazel eyes. Creepy.

"You're not helping your case here," the dæmon says, voice softer than what Shawn had expected. Soft, but stern, much like Odessa, his father's daemon.

"My case?" Shawn asks with a tilt of his head. His brows pull together as he glances at the two detectives. "Wait, wait, wait. I'm actually a suspect?" His jaw drops at the revelation.

"Oh, you're our lead suspect," Grumpy Detective says, lips curling up into the beginnings of a smirk.

Shawn sputters. "I gave you the guy!"

The panther lifts her snout, staring at Shawn. She presses a paw onto the detective's shoe, shifting her weight. The detective looks at her, then at her paw, like she's holding him back from spitting out something that won't follow protocol. The detective seems like the type to do that. "He had a partner," she says in a placating tone.

"Wait," Shawn says. He glances at the blonde detective with a question in his eyes, but she gives a blank look in response. The woman's dæmon perks up, but only twitches its nose. "I have to find that guy? I'm confused."

He turns to the Grumpy Detective. "When do you start chipping in?"

The man's blue eyes flash in warning. "See, your information was good." He smiles, but it isn't friendly. "So good, it could only have come from the inside."

Alodia makes a small sound that mimics the frustration building within Shawn. She ruffles her feathers, drawing up. She isn't a large dæmon at all, but she doesn't let that scare her. The other dæmons regard her with a look each, while their human counterparts stare at Shawn.

"Inside of what?" Shawn cries. He shakes his head. "Look, I've called in dozens of tips, okay? Just" - he breathes in - "check it out.

Grumpy Detective grins mockingly. That probably wasn't the best thing to tell the guy. "I did. I checked out a whole lot of stuff. Like, oh, you're currently unemployed."

Detective rushes forward. He pulls the chair back -- but unlike a normal person who would pull the chair then slide onto the seat from the side, Grumpy Detective plops himself down from the top. Who does that? The pretty detective doesn't seem too perturbed by the action, though, so the guy must do it often.

Grumpy Detective's dæmon sits next to her human. She's tall enough to be on eye level with the table. Her bright eyes track all the slightest movements, predatory and looming.

Grumpy Detective takes a folder hidden under the his suit jacket, and lays the dossier upon the table. Shawn's face grins brightly, encapsulated in a photograph. It was back in '02 when everyone had the worst haircuts, and Shawn thought spiky hair and an almost fringe was a good idea.

The blonde peers over at his file. Her face is blank. At least she isn't laughing at his looks. Her dæmon doesn't look at the paper like his human, though; he stares at Alodia, beady otter eyes trained on the bird. Not predatory, but observant.

"You've never held a job for more than six months," the grumpy detective lists as a number two, nodding at the printed text. He continues a scan over the paper, making a small noise under his breath.

"And you have a criminal record," his dæmon finishes for him without even having to look at the paper. The detective resurfaces from his brief reverie, glancing with the least bit of subtlety at his partner. It isn't a bad look, though.

Shawn tries, "I was eighteen."

Grumpy Detective snaps his eyes to Shawn. He graces another mocking smile. "Oh. Eighteen?" He gives a small laugh. He turns to his partner, nodding. "Well, that makes it okay! Let me just scratch this out." The detective's dæmon gives her human a look.

Shawn heaves a sigh, tad dramatically. He looks at the blonde detective. He'll work his best puppy dog eyes, if he has to. "I borrowed a car." Alodia hops to the edge of the table, talons curling around the edge. She's as bored as Shawn is aggravated.

Nice Detective returns that same levelled look. She's not particularly nice, but Grumpy Detective is a wildcat baring its fangs, and she's the only other reasonable one. She's kind of nice.

"You stole a car," Grumpy Detective's dæmon says, tone mediating - whether to calm Shawn or her human is unknown.

Shawn doesn't even look at either the male detective or his dæmon. Alodia does, but she looks away after a moment. Shawn stares at the Nice Detective instead. "To impress a girl."

The detective matches his stare for a moment, almost calculating. She gives Shawn a once-over (and sadly, not in a sexual way - though she may have seen the hickey on his neck), then gives Alodia one, too. She seems dissatisfied with what she sees. "Look," she starts, hands opening in front of her, "forgive us, Mr. Spencer, if this seems far-fetched."

"--Would it help at all if I told you that she had a bit of a reputation, and I was a zero in high school?" Shawn quips with a grin.

The detectives don't stir.

"Okay, fine. There were extenuating circumstances. The arresting officer was my father. He was trying to teach me a lesson."

"Did you learn it?" the panther asks.

Shawn shrugs. "I learned I hated my father -- so, sure."

"Pardon me if I'm just a little sceptical," Grumpy Detective says, but he doesn't sound apologetic at all. "Believable as it is that you solved all these crimes... I'm sorry, what was it?" He glances at his partner, then at his dæmon, bearing a fake smile. "Watching the local channel 8 news reports."

"I confess," Shawn counters, acting just as transparent. "That's not true. Sometimes I watch channel five. I prefer channel eight." He gives a lovestruck look. "The weather girl --- adorable."

The detectives don't react to the joke. Didn't expect them to.

"So you're telling us that you can read guilt off of TV interviews," the panther says with a tinge of disbelief. Her human has something to say -- he's holding it back with the least amount of subtlety -- but yet the daemon talks for both of them. Odd.

Shawn gives the daemon a curious look. "Can't you?" he shoots back just as easily. Alodia huffs, the closest thing she can do to a laugh.

Nice Detective's dæmon snaps. "Don't you try and trivialize police work." The sudden outburst shocks everyone. Grumpy Detective raises an eyebrow at his partner, while his dæmon stares at the otter.

Shawn shrugs. "I think you're doing a bang-up job of that all by yourself."

The otter lets out a sound of displeasure.

"You can't keep me here, guys," Shawn counters with ease. Alodia takes to the air. "I know my rights." Shawn stands before the detectives could stop him, and the chair almost topples as he jumps to his feet. He strides over to the door without another glance at the detectives and their daemons. Yeah, take that.

"Good," Grumpy Detective says. Shawn ignores the man. "Then you know you have the right to remain silent."

Shawn throws the door open. He's about to take a step out before McNab blocks his way. Ayumi is tensed, ears raised. Shawn tries to step forward, but the officer matches his step.

"You have the right to an attorney," the panther says just as Shawn tries to take another step. She eyes Alodia, who isn't helping her human at all. "If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you."

Shawn turns to the detectives, frowning. Nice Detective (who really isn't being all that nice anymore) stands. She places her daemon on the table, and the otter stands on its hind legs. It's trying to look taller and bigger. It's pretty funny.

Shawn's frown pulls deeper. "Wait, wait, wait. . . You're serious?"

"A few hours in a holding cell might jog your memory." Grumpy Detective smiles in that unfriendly way he does. His dæmon lowers her snout, peering at Shawn with that same kind of expectant patience all the experienced cops seem to have.

Shawn looks down the hall. The holding cells are scarier now that he has to actually be inside. Who knows how clean the bench is? And that terrifying public toilet. . . . Shawn gulps.

"Just give us a reason, Mr. Spencer," Kind Of Nice Detective says in a serious yet nicer tone -- so, now, her title as Kind Of Nice Detective becomes Pretty Nice Detective, which is almost back to her original status as Nice Detective. "That's all we need. How did you get this information?"

Shawn opens his mouth, but Grumpy Detective cuts him off. "No." The panther dæmon jumps to her feet just as Grumpy Detective does. "It is too late for that."

Grumpy Detective walks over to Shawn, staring him down with the inches the detective has on him. God, is everyone so tall these days? All these _kids_ and their. . .height. "Officer Allen, book him."

From somewhere unknown - from the magical shadows of the mystical police station realm - an officer appears. It's the same officer from the lobby, but with less telephone business and even less acceptable customer service. Her dæmon was by her side when she appeared, but the bird flew over to Alodia as his human went over to Shawn. The parrot is bigger than the magpie, with a bigger wingspan and a sharper beak.

Allen grabs onto Shawn's arms, pulling them together behind his back. Her dæmon flies closer to Alodia, pushing her backwards and trying to trap her.

Shawn jumps at the manhandling.  "Book him? Oh, come on."

Allen holds onto Shawn with one hand, as the other reaches for the handcuffs she has on her belt. Unlike Shawn's hookup the night before, these won't have a soft inside to keep from bleeding and chafing.

"Cuffs?" Shawn scoffs. He wiggles in a vague attempt at struggling, but the woman is stronger than he is and he isn't putting up much of a fight. He turns to glance behind him, at Allen and his wrists. There's still a slight redness along the inside of his forearms from last night. "What, for the walk back to the lobby?"

He glances at Alodia. Despite the bigger bird, Alodia doesn't budge. She gets pushed backwards, but she doesn't move. The parrot stares at Alodia. She stares back. They're probably communicating in that dæmon-only, nonverbal, bird way some birds do. She'll be fine.

"Or you could give us a plausible explanation," Kind Of Nice Detective supplies. _Awh_ , she really is the nicer detective. Grumpy Detective glances at her with a frown.

Shawn opens his mouth to give a witty quip of some kind, but Officer Allen pulls his arms tighter together, and the metal of the cuffs presses against his skin. He turns his head as he watches with some horror as Allen readies to cuff him. He also watches as McNab and Ayumi watch on without even offering any help. Oh, the _deception!_ and the _broken_ trust.

Shawn turns back, flustered, but something catches his eye. Up close, it's a little easier to see the finer details of Officer Allen's bracelets and earrings. Some of the runes inscribed onto the metal are too small to read, but the few that are spell out a clear enough image. On the purple crytal pendant around her neck, (which is a very poor imitation of a precious stone) the symbol for 'Bear' is etched in with metal -- that, or it's the symbol of 'Protection' but the person who engrained it was drunk beyond hell. The symbols on her earrings spell 'Beauty' in an archaic dialect of the Native Muscovites. Those look more authentic than the crystal, at least. Though, there are some smaller inscriptions around the earrings, so the meaning may actually be worse. It's hard to tell from such a quick glance.

Shawn wrenches his arms from Allen's grasp. Alodia, too, darts away from the parrot daemon. Allen, McNab and Grumpy Detective reach out to grab him again, but Shawn raises his hands in a show of surrender. Grumpy Detective nods at the two others, and they both step back.

"Okay," Shawn says. "Okay. Fine. You win. I got the information because. . . ."

There's a collective bated breath.

"I am a psychic."

Allen drops her cuffs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen smiles, her grin filled with something Shawn can't place. He's rooted in place before he could move any farther. "Not exactly. You familiar with the McCallum family?"
> 
> "McCallum?" Shawn squints as the sun glares down. "Yeah, they own half the hill."
> 
> Caspian's ears twitch. "There's been a kidnapping."
> 
> Shawn quickly raises his hand in surrender. "I had nothing to do with that."
> 
> "Would you like to?" Karen's smile grows into something else. "The feds are itching to jump in on this case, and I need to make some progress. What I need is a miracle."  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow?? im alive?? lmaoooooo  
> its been more than a year. i apologise. i had transferred to a new school so all that shit literally killed me, my cow, my honour, my writing-- im a zombie now. and well since its my vacation again, im back to fanfics  
> sHIT man im terrible lmao  
> but hey the next chap is in the works so i swear im trying  
> well, heres more psych daemons!!!!!! i hope you guys continue to support this fic❤  
> ok enough from me!!!! byeeee

 

* * *

  


A psychic. A fucking psychic. Oh, gods, this was the most outrageous thing he's done ever -- and that's including Mexico _and_ Texas. Shawn would have felt at least an ounce of regret at his shitty lie, had not he been the centre of so much attention or pushed to such desperate acts.

Alodia darts around the parrot dæmon, and swoops down to perch on Shawn's shoulder. Shawn covers up his itchiness with a shrug. "A witch, if you might."

He's dug his grave, so, yep, now he's gotta lay in it.

That was the last straw for Grumpy. He looked like he was ready to burst. "Get him out of here! Now--!"

Shawn doesn't let the man finish. After all, he loves the dramatic.

Alodia takes to the sky, and she spreads her wings out. It gives Shawn an ethereal look - as if he had the black and white wings. They both close their eyes, and Shawn stumbles back.

"Oh!" He touches his head, raising his face to the sky.

Everyone's too amazed to stop him. Well, everyone except Grumpy; he's off boiling with rage and disbelief. His dæmon has herself between him and Shawn since she actually seems interested in the spectacle.

Shawn's eyes snap open as Alodia flies back down. She perches back on Shawn's shoulder. Shawn, though, turns to Officer Allen. His expression turns soft. "Your grandma would be so proud."

All eyes on the officer.

She blinks. Her parrot squawks. They look at each other before looking at Shawn. "You spoke to her?" Her voice has gone soft.

Shawn nods. "I did." He outstretches his hand but doesn't try to touch her. "She's... safe, comfortable." Grumpy gives a small, disbelieving chuckle at this, but Shawn continues on. "She wants you to stop spending all your money on those _charlatans_."

It takes a moment for it to register, but when it does, Allen gasps. She cups her face with her hands, handcuffs momentarily forgotten. "The palm readers!" Her dæmon clicks his beak.

"The palm readers," Shawn repeats with a smile. Under a whisper, he adds, "The fakes. Never trust them. They--"

"Uhm, just to be clear," Nice Blondie cuts in. Shawn meets her furrowed brow look. "You're claiming to be a _psychic_ , Mr Spencer."

Shawn smiles, beatific, though his cheeks itch to smirk. He turns to Alodia, who gives a small nod.

She takes to the air. She circles around Blondie and Grumpy, pulling the eyes of the room to the couple. The otter dæmon hops onto his hind legs and tries to grab Alodia as she passes him by, but she just flies up and away from his claws.

Shawn outstretches his hands towards the two detectives, palms upwards. Alodia flies back to her human, sitting on one of his hands.

Shawn can't help his smirk. "How else would I know you're sleeping together?"

Blondie sputters, her dæmon chittering. Grumpy is stunned into silence; it's his dæmon who growls at Shawn.

Allen snaps out of her entranced state, and she barely holds back a grin. Her dæmon returns to her, landing on the ground next to her feet. She glances at him, before sharing a knowing look with McNab. Ayumi hides her face behind McNab's leg to hide her huffs.

"One, two, three..." Shawn turns. He becomes serious again, moving his free hand to the beat. They watch him once again, the room now filled with dread (Grumpy and Blondie), hope (Allen) and amazement (McNab). "One, two, three... One..." He points to the tall officer. "When's the wedding?"

Everyone's eyes turn to McNab. Under the attention, he blushes a bit. Ayumi wags her tail. "May 3rd -- Wait." He laughs. His dæmon circles him in bounds. "How... how did you know?"

Instead of giving such an obvious answer, Shawn closes his eyes. He scrunches his nose, as if in thought. "I'm getting... dance lessons for a wedding reception." He opens his eyes, grinning at the wide-eyed man. "And you are getting good."

"Gee, thanks!" Ayumi barks, her tail wagging.

McNab turns to Allen. He mouths, _That's amazing!_ She nods with the same enthusiasm.

Even Blondie looks impressed.

"Oh, come on!" Grumpy bursts. Gods, can't he just let this go? He looks just about seething, blue eyes icy and sharp. He flushes from the exertion, which makes a vein appear along his receding hairline. "Who's actually buying this?"

Allen raises her hand, a touch smug. Her bracelets jingle as she does. McNab looks sheepish as he raises his hand as well, but Ayumi gives a small bark without hesitation.

The otter dæmon stirs, and the panther wastes no time to give it a look.

From out in the hall, a deer dæmon pops her head out from between the holding cell bars. "We do!"

A chorus of human and dæmon responses rise from the cells.

Ayumi growls under her breath. McNab nods at her, giving a small pat on the top of her head. She dashes into the hall, barking at the dæmons and humans alike. The noise dies in a few moments.

Ayumi sits in the hall, guarding. McNab follows to his dæmon's side.

Grumpy looks like he's about to follow the duo out into the hall, so Shawn does what he can.

"Wait, wait, wait," he says, and the detective stops. Alodia spreads her wings once more, and circles Shawn. Shawn, in turn, straightens up. "I got it!"

Shawn steps up closer to the blue-eyed wonder, hands spread out. The detective matches his actions by stepping back, but at least he gets farther from the door. "Go to detention room number two."

Shawn takes another step forward and stills. Any closer and he would've touched the officer's dæmon. Oops. Of course, Grumpy sees the action. Before he could react to it, though, Shawn turns to Blondie.

"Shake down your vandal." She blinks at the statement. "You'll find all the evidence you need. . ." Shawn jerks. He glances at his leg, which starts to shake. He grabs his thigh with both of his hands, but it still shakes. He turns back to Grumpy. "All the evidence is in his left shoe."

Some people (aka Shawn) say that there are three types of anger: annoyance, disappointment, and pure hatred. Grumpy was able to hit all three in one expression.

His dæmon growls. Shawn jumps back as a sign of respect to the panther. The panther looks bigger somehow, scarier, ready to attack. She stands in front of Grumpy, shielding her human.

"Look--"

"Bird," the panther says (which is totally rude since she totally just cut Shawn off midsentence. What kind of servant of justice this guy is). It takes a few seconds before Shawn understands what the panther wants.

Alodia, though, is quicker than her human. She flies down, small wings beating with bravado. She puffs her chest out, raising her beak. She chirps as a response.

"Uhm, her name is Alodi--"

The panther dæmon pounces on Alodia -- which is _such_ a Grumpy thing to do. Her big paws pin the bird down with ease.

Shawn snaps out of his "trance" with a gasp. Of course, it's all just acting, but some part of the act was totally real. The dæmon's action made some part of his blood run ice cold, but never in a million years will Shawn admit that.

Grumpy's dæmon stares down at Alodia, feline eyes trained on every small movement. The bird struggles wildly. Her wings are flashes of monochrome as they flap around.

It's only a moment before the panther lets Alodia go. The bird flies up to the farthest corner of the room, squawking and clicking her beak.

Shawn shakes off his tension to the best of his abilities.

Grumpy's dæmon doesn't even look like she broke a sweat. "I believe them."

Grumpy nods, begrudgingly. He steps up to the door. Now, Shawn doesn't even try to stop him. He grinds out, "We'll be back here in three minutes." He turns to Allen, pointing. "With my own cuffs."

His dæmon steps out of the room first, and Grumpy follows. McNab and Ayumi scramble out of their way. The door closes behind them with a click.

The tension in the room is nearly suffocating. Allen leads Shawn back to the chair, and he follows. Alodia flies circles above them with restless energy.

"Forgive my partner," Blondie says. Her dæmon chitters quietly. "He gets overdramatic."

Shawn smiles. "No, yeah. It's fine." He clears his throat. "Do I still have to stay here?"

Officer Allen nods. Her dæmon is perched on her shoulder now. "I'm 'fraid so, Mr Spencer."

"Could I let Alodia out for a bit, though?" He gives them a smile. "To spread her wings?"

"Mr Spencer, you--"

Allen meets Blondie's eyes.

"Mr Spencer," Blondie says in length, "you can't leave the room."

Shawn splays his hands in front of him. He gives her a grin, one with more authenticity. "Well, Ms Detective, I don't have to go out with her."

Blondie gives him a look, studying him. Her dæmon butts his head against her arm.

"Alright." She turns to Allen. "Officer, please escort Mr Spencer's dæmon."

The officer smiles, nods. Her dæmon flies up to Alodia, following her. Allen opens the door.

In a flash, Alodia zips out the room with no mind to the other dæmon. A barrage of noise rises from the holding cells, followed by Ayumi's barking. The noise settles down in a few moments.

Shawn settles into his chair, and waits, pointedly ignoring the looks on the women's faces.

 

* * *

 

"I told you so."

Carlton huffs. He rests his chin on his palm. "It was just a lucky guess." Mila is curled into a ball by his feet, resting her paw on Lassiter's foot.

Meanwhile, Silas is playing with Mila's tail. His small paws race around trying to catch her tail but to no avail. She flicks her tail up, down, left, right, round and round and round--

Silas slips onto a floor with a soft thud. He chitters and jumps back to his feet.

Lucinda watches her dæmon, before turning back to Carlton. He similarly glances up from watching at Silas, matching her gaze.

"That couldn't have been a guess," she says. She points at the evidence bag on his desk with a tilt of her head.

Carlton huffs. "He must've planted it on the perp."

Lucinda sighs, heavily. She rolls her eyes but doesn't push on the issue further. No use in it, anyway. They have evidence from his dæmon. It should be enough for a quick report.

Shawn Spencer's voice echoes through the lobby, reaching the detectives despite the distance. " _I'm getting. . . I am getting. . . the letter L_."

Of course, Allen gasps in delight. Gabriel caws, too.

"Lulu!" he exclaims. His wings beat loudly.

"Her dæmon!" she adds right after. "Did she tell you anything else?"

Lassiter huffs. He's been doing that a lot lately. "A guess."

"Carlton--"

"He could give her any letter and Allen would take it as gospel." It's Mila who replies this time. "We have to be more logical about this."

"We have dæmons," Lucinda says as a counter, "and history has accounted for many great witches. He isn't as supernatural as you make him to be. And, _look_ , his alibi checks."

From under the table comes Silas' voice. "I trust him." Mila swipes him playfully with her paw.

Carlton and Lucinda both look away. Well, that's the end of _that_ topic.

Lucinda reaches over to her desk -- which isn't hard as her and Carlton's desks are perpendicular to each other. She grabs the first folder on her evergrowing towers of manila envelopes and dossiers. It is labelled _Vision Robberie_ s. She all but throws the thick folder at her partner, who catches it with both hands.

Lucinda smiles. "I trust you know how to file a report?"

She walks off, heels clicking against the tiles. Silas follows her in bounds, leaping just to catch up with her strides.

"Lucinda!" She turns to look back. Carlton can't look at her directly. "Are we-- Is tonight still pushing through?"

She smiles. "If I said yes, you'd only say I'm guessing." She walks off again, heels loud as ever on the tiles.

Carlton curses under his breath. Mila, though, laughs.

"That wasn't very _logical_ ," she purrs, mockingly.

Carlton gets onto his feet. "Shut it."

Shawn Spencer is still chatting away about fortunes and palm readings, peering at Allen and Gabriel through the small slot in the protective glass. He presses his grubby little fingers against the surface. The janitors are going to have a tough time cleaning that up.

"Where's his dæmon?" Mila asks, suddenly sounding small. She presses her neck to Carlton's leg, nearly sending him toppling to the ground, but providing a sense of security.

He gulps. "I don't know."

Mr Spencer looks over his shoulder. His eyes lock onto Carlton. He quickly turns back to Allen, pressing his face close. Allen leans in, too, and she glances at Carlton and Mila as Mr Spencer whispers into her ear.

Carlton makes a low sound of displeasure, echoed by Mila in a low growl. Missing dæmon forgotten, Carlton makes his way to the front desk. Mr Spencer looks up at him, and outright dashes away. Carlton doesn't even look that mad or that scary! What the hell?

His face settles into a scowl as he watches the man jump out of the exit. Mila brushes against his leg, and he's reminded of the folder in his hands.

He steps up to Allen, who was also watching Mr Spencer leave the station. When she sees Carlton, though, her smile falls.

"Allen," Carlton says, almost friendly. He nods at her dæmon. "Gabriel."

They narrow their eyes at him. "What can we do for you, Detective?"

He throws the folder onto the counter. It lands with a loud _thud_. Gabriel squawks, and flies into the air. Allen eyes the folder with clear disdain.

"I need this by four o'clock." And with a smile, he squeezes the folder through the opening to Allen's desk.

 

* * *

 

Shawn's barely down the flight of stairs when he jumps in the air, a laugh bubbling through his chest. He wiggles on the steps in a resemblance of a dance. Oh, thank the _gods_.

He runs down the steps, skipping two or three at a time. He gives a small nod to the officer and her dæmon when he passes them, but then he's jumping around and stretching his arms above his head until -- _ooooh, yes._ That feels _much_ better. Grumpy was such a thorn in his side, and while the detective's eyes were such a pretty blue, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief he was able to escape from the man's clutches. Blondie wasn't much of a help, either, but at least she seemed to like him.

Everything was way too tense inside. It was ruining his chakra, his chi, his gorgeous hairdo, his vibes. It wasn't as hot as the border, or as rocky as Texas, but, fucking hell, that was scary. All that matters now is that he's out the doors, a hundred bucks richer, and (if there isn't any traffic) right in time to catch _The Good Wife_ right before the season finale of _Dr. Rock Hard_ \-- which is actually a show that is much more insightful and meaningful than the title makes it seem, thank you very much.

Shawn is halfway to the street when --

"Not so fast, Mr Spencer."

Mr Spencer. . . Gods, that leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Shawn turns, slowly. If he could stall this, maybe it could even give him time to escape.

The pregnant woman clearly controls power. Her face is steeled into a smile, but there's a look in her eye that says she knows something you don't. She stands upon the stairs, shoulders pulled back with a natural confidence.

Dear, gods, she stands like Dad.

Her dæmon stands behind her, two of his hooves raised on the steps. He barely even has to raise his head and his line of sight is already over the blonde's head. The red deer is most notable and terrifying for his large set of antlers that twist and stick out like a blossoming flower.

The blonde catches his eye as he looks away from her dæmon. She smiles. "I'm Karen Vick--"

"Interim police chief," Shawn says, narrowing his eyes in confusion and suspicion. He tilts his head.

She looks impressed. Well, wow. That's great. Congrats.

"This is Caspian." She points her hand to her _Cervus elaphus._ Shawn nods his head at the dæmon who stares at him.

What's his deal?

"I heard about what you did in there," Karen says. She has a weird smile on her face; it doesn't feel welcoming.

Shawn smiles back, beaming. "You're welcome." His smile doesn't feel welcome, either.

The afternoon sun is bright. Weatherman George from Channel 9 didn't say it was going to be this hot today. Why is he sweating so much?

The blonde's smile twitches. The corner of her smile quirks up in a fraction of a second. "I also happened to witness a little bird around our premises, as well."

Caspian whinnies behind her, shaking his large set of antlers. Oh, that must be why he's been on edge this whole time. His human seems to be taking the whole ' _Oh, no, where's his dæmon?_ ' thing pretty well, though. Blondie must've told her. Maybe it was Allen.

Shawn shakes his head, matching the deer dæmon whether he was aware of it or not. "Oh, that was nothing." He even sounds. . . bashful? Woah. He ducks his head, looking away.

Karen continues down the stairs, her dæmon behind her. "That wasn't the phrase I was going to use." She stops, and Shawn glances up. "I was going to say. . . improbable." She shrugs, indifferent. "Possible, yet _unlikely_."

Shawn knows a challenge when he hears it. He smiles, lips curling like a damned Cheshire Cat. "Look, it's hard to explain. I'm gifted." He shrugs right back. "I was born that way."

"Witches are always female," Karen counters with ease. "Your mother - I'm guessing - may have been one, but you?"

Shawn wets his lips. He swallows. He's parched; it's hard to swallow. This heat must be doing a number on him. "How else should I prove myself, Chief?"

The blonde regards him for a long moment, eyes alive and sharp. With that look, it just makes it clearer she's been more of a desk bunny than a field hopper. Trained, yeah, but never front lines.

"I knew your father." The scratchy feeling in Shawn's turns into bile. "He was a good cop. You're nothing like him."

Shawn blinks blearily into a wolfish smile, the best he could do for now. "I take that as a compliment, ma'am."

"Don't call me _ma'am_."

Shawn shuts up at her tone.

Coming from a portal from the dark, alternate dimension where Shawn has a tail, Alodia flies across the sky above them. She does a somersault as she swoops down. She perches on Shawn's shoulder. Ugh, so dramatic. She might as well have lit a car on fire; it would've gotten the same effect.

Karen and Caspian (Kaspian?) eye Alodia, too surprised to react.

Shawn takes a step back. "Am I still free to go?" he asks amidst all the activity.

Karen smiles, her grin filled with something Shawn can't place. He's rooted in place before he could move any farther. "Not exactly. You familiar with the McCallum family?"

"McCallum?" Shawn squints as the sun glares down. "Yeah, they own half the hill."

Caspian's ears twitch. "There's been a kidnapping."

Shawn quickly raises his hand in surrender. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Would you like to?" Karen's smile grows into something else. "The feds are itching to jump in on this case, and I need to make some progress. What I _need_ is a miracle."

"Or a facsimile of one," Caspian adds. He ducks his head, and his antlers almost hit his human.

There's something vulnerable and pleading in their request. It's almost like they. . . Oh, do they want him to help? "I see, I see." Shawn can't help but grin. Suddenly, he's feeling alive, hydrated, energetic, excited. "Well, I make $1,200 a day."

"It's a try-out."

Shawn stifles his reactions. "Right. That's what I meant to say." He shrugs, friendly. "This is pro bono -- y'know, something for you."

The blonde eyes him for a moment, scrutinising and harsh. It's the _Police Look._ His dad had it, even his mom could do it after a while, Grumpy and Blondie had it -- and, now, even Ms Interim Chief was laying it on him hard. Growing up with an officer teaches you things. One of it is how to deal with the Police Look. It's the exact reason why he was able to win so many poker games against the detectives and cops as a seven-year-old, and why no one ever played Cluedo with him after the '87 incident.

Shawn grins, despite himself.

Karen smiles back. " _Y'know_ ," she mimics, "if this psychic thing is a scam. . . we will prosecute." There's a thinly veiled _We won't hesitate_ somewhere in there, too.

Karen smirks. "Thank you, Mr Spencer." She turns, and starts to climb back up the stairs.

Her dæmon follows behind her, but stops. "Mr Spencer, Alodia," he says. He turns back to the two, though his eyes focus on Alodia. "Hindering a police investigation is a criminal offence."

Shawn is stunned into silence. Caspian doesn't bother with the brunet's reactions, and instead follows his human back to their office.

Alodia has to smack Shawn to get him working again.

"Sounds good!" he barks, watching as the pair disappear into the police station. "We're on the same team now. Kidnappers beware!"

As soon as they are out of earshot, Shawn turns around and dashes to his motorbike. He nearly trips over himself in his haste. Alodia, the most helpful dæmon around, takes to the air before she could get hit by any of Shawn's limbs, and just watches Shawn flip around on the ground.

He gets to his feet, and books it.

He's never been as glad to see his motorcycle as he does now. He straddles the vehicle in one move. His hands reach for the handlebars. Helmet on.

It's then that he realises his keys are still back at the station.

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> say hello to me on [tumblr](http://late-nighhts.tumblr.com) and scream about the void with me
> 
> daemons: (in order of appearance)  
> shawn spencer : alodia, black-billed magpie (Pica hudsonia)  
> henry spencer : odessa, polar bear (Ursus maritimus)  
> officer allen : gabriel, eastern rosella parrot (Platycercus eximius)  
> buzz mcnab : ayumi, labrador retriever (Canis lupus familiaris)  
> carlton lassiter: mila, cougar/panther/puma/theyre all the same apparently (Puma concolor)  
> lucinda barry: silas, otter (Lontra canadensis)  
> karen vick: caspian, red deer (Cervus elaphus)


End file.
